


You Hate It

by RobinTheArtist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinTheArtist/pseuds/RobinTheArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unpredictable moments of soul crushing despair. This is your life. You cannot change it. It will probably stay that way for all of your life. </p>
<p>And you really hate that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Hate It

You sing. You rap. You dance. You fool around. You make music. You create. 

You're the God, for upwards of two minutes, downwards of eight. You bring life to lines of numbers and strings of frequencies. You make people's hearts beat to the pulse and pound of your worlds. You tell them a story without saying a word. From your fingertips bleeds _sound_.

You think this, and you smirk to yourself, when it falls from your face and shatters with the cracked CD. Breath evacuates your lungs with the urgancy of a panicked crowd. You can almost hear their screams in the echo-less ringing sounding through your ears like a twenty-one-gun salute. 

It's because you sang the wrong word at the wrong time. 

You trapeze the empty apartment, headphones shielding your ears from the abrasive silence, singing to yourself over the low hum of your latest track. The CD in your hand is about to go on the tables to liven this piece up. The next words are not premeditated, they flow from your mouth like sound from your fingers. 

"And it's killing me inside, everytime you say goodbye..."

You stop, and you drop the CD, and you stop breathing. The song plays on, but you can't hear it because your head is singing white noise and when did you start breathing and _why is it so loud?_

"Hey you little- Woah, Dave?"

Bro is home and he's talking and he's shaking you _wake up, Dave, seriously, you're freaking me out-_

The feeling of tears burrowing out from under your shades is weird, and when did you start crying? They're pouring down your face now and you can't stop them and the steady rivers come with an ocean of thoughts you can't handle.

_Why do people put up with you? You're so annoying. Unattractive. Stupid. Rude. Everyone should hate you, you fucking freak._

"Dave, look at me!"

You surface from the ocean, and your breathing again, but you're choking on sobs and you wrap your arms around Bro because you need an anchor to reality. He gets it. You do this so much, and a stab of guilt hits you, because _he deserves a better brother than you_. 

But he wraps his arms around you and holds you and it's awkward because your shades are still on, but fuck everything, you need this. You need somewhere here so your thoughts can't hurt you. You need someone to pull you out of the nose dive of selfpity. 

When you calm down and pull your face away from Bro's damp shirt, he asks what set you off.

"I... I don't fucking know anymore."

He excepts your bullshit reason. He always does, because that's the way this whole depression thing works. You get set off by the little, inconsequential things. Like singing the wrong lyrics in an empty apartment. 

Unpredictable moments of soul crushing despair. This is your life. You cannot change it. It will probably stay that way for all of your life. 

And you _really hate_ that.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a Drabble. Depression sucks. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Dave and Bro are property of Andrew Hussie.


End file.
